Sat on the shifter after leaving the banging tunes at the hare and hounds in Da Heath, and seeing Mike the Move have his pick of the honeys, I don’t want to reflect too long on the distasteful elements of the evening.
The President delivered an excellent gaming challenge, won in fine style by the man responsible for the lack of doily potting in modern times – Ads.
We also managed to have a good curry, in spite of crossed lines on arrival, and managing to disturb a table of middle aged women to the point of them commenting directly that one of us needed to be in a room on his own, having a word with himself.
Millers almost Wolfspidered again, but was found to be too late in raising a grievance against the President, who was found to be guilty of putter malice, but at time so far in the past as to not be relevant.
We didn’t discuss a discussion paper because we had managed to all fall out by that point, but the Captain retained his role, Boyce saw off Noz and Gregs to take the third seat on the board as PR, and we decided that no one who wasn’t at the AGM would receive their prize money.
We reconvened at the Hare and Hounds, after a quick sub to Noz by the Captain in the face of serious abuse, and indeed ten minutes in the wrong room resolved calmly by the Captain, a number of members enjoyed vintage house for at least two and up to many many tunes before getting into a flotilla of separately timed cabs.
Star of the night after Adam left before eating? Mike for showing the boys of the Hare and Hounds how to throw down and have the honeys eating from the palm of his hand – I shit you not, he was on fire.
Hopefully the individual issues of the evening will be ships that pass in the night, and not mentioned again, until we get trousered again in a week or two…
